


Civil. Union.

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, Sad, Sad Keith (Voltron), Season/Series 08, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-18 10:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: When she'd first met Keith in the belly of the weblum, Acxa should have known him for the beautiful burden he'd become. If she could just make him happy, this fragile hero-boy, perhaps she could do some good for the universe after all.As Shiro's wedding approaches, she realises just how hard her task might be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> one sad fix-it fic after *that* season.

Acxa glanced up from her reader as the door zipped open. There was a beat of silence before Keith lumbered through, back bent and head bowed. His Marmora uniform was scuddy from the day, his hair matted with dust. The wolf trotted in behind him, offering Acxa a quiet ruff before fizzing off again, presumably hungry for his supper. Keith turned in tired bemusement, then rolled his eyes at the fall of sparkles.

‘Acxa,’ he said, in greeting.

‘Keith,’ she answered.

Palming on the main light with a grunt, Keith slipped into the small bathroom to the side of the lounge without a word. With a tut, Acxa replaced her reader on the table and peeled herself from the seat, bones creaking.

She stood in the hallway a moment, considering. A thin bar of light from the open door cast patterns through the wicker shelving off their lounge. They shared the modest compound with Ezor, Zethrid and Lor; a logistics specialist who once served under Sendak of all people. After so long on the road, they’d finally managed to make a home of sorts for themselves. Not a place to nest to much as recover. Hide even. It’s not like there wasn’t demand for their services. People asked for their assistance all the time, at all hours of the day and night. They’d started the transition to aid organisation as tired veterans, God knows what they were now.

She toed open the door. Keith stood at the sink, face grey with exhaustion and eyes red-rimmed. He was more than tired. He was upset. Between the fingers of one hand was a plain white envelope. 

‘What happened?’ she asked, moving to stand behind him. Ever so slowly, she unclipped the thick sash of his uniform that marked him as a senior in the Blades. He sighed, long and low as she pulled it up and over his head. Laying it gently across the tub, she picked up a brush and began combing back his hair, careful not to tug at the knots and instead easing them out with the claws of her other hand. He leaned backwards into her, back arching cat-like, and let his head drag and fall with each pull of the heavy brush. ‘What happened, Keith?’ she prompted.

Even without looking in the mirror, she could tell he was biting his lip. She batted him lightly on the ear with the brush, smiling at the pout he offered her back through the mirror.

‘Keith…’

‘I guess,’ he began, wearily. ‘I guess it’s happened. I always knew it would. But…’

She didn’t have to ask. He pushed the envelope across the lip of the sink towards her. An invitation.

_You are formally invited to the wedding of Takashi Shirogane and…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please get at me! froldgapp.tumblr.com

Rain pattered against the thick windows of the shuttle as it descended through thick grey clouds. Earth stretched out below him, the desert vast and red and beautiful. Keith always loved entering atmospheres. How the joystick fought his grip. How the chassis shuddered. How his stomach bottomed out and his ears popped. It made flying feel real. Risky.

‘Prepare for landing,’ he said quietly, though it was mostly out of habit. Acxa slept in the back, her horns painted in ceremonial spirals of gold. The space felt quieter without the wolf, who'd accompanied his mother on an ambassadorial meeting to a potential new coalition planet. They were animal lovers apparently, and what wasn't there to love about his eight foot cosmic pet wolf?

The shuttle bounced on an air pocket as he guided it downwards and towards the narrow strips of the Garrison runways. His communication link buzzed with activity.

‘Runway three,’ squeaked an air traffic control cadet. ‘Er… pala-cap- _sir_!’

Keith laughed. ‘Understood, cadet. Thanks,’

There was an awkward cough, then: ‘And welcome home, sir.’

Something stuck in Keith’s throat. _Home._ The shuttle pitched sideways on a strong crosswind. The desert had calmed none in his absence: it was as ferocious as always. Keith swallowed. ‘Prepare runway for landing, cadet,’ he said, leaning into the descent.

OoO

‘Stop fussing,’ said Keith as Acxa straightened his sash for the hundredth time since they landed. They were making their way across the bustling Garrison common, having quickly gathered their dorm keys and Earth allowance from the administration. Iverson was kind enough to put them up for the duration of the celebration, though Keith did wonder if it wouldn’t be better for them to simply stay on their ship. Earth had become, once again, a strange and foreign place to him. “Hellos” were bad enough, never mind “How are you, sirs?” and “Good evening, sirs”. He shuddered at the thought of people being in his room, cleaning his clothes, taking his bags.

‘The problem is you’re too skinny,’ Acxa said, ignoring him completely and tugging on the sash with both hands until the triangles were aligned properly across his chest and back. ‘You're like a bi-bo-bi on a diet. I don’t know which part of you’s Galra. Your thick skull, probably.’

‘I am what I am,’ Keith said, distractedly. A clump of gawp-mouthed cadets drifted past, one of them not even vaguely trying to disguise the fact they were taking a picture of him.

Acxa cuffed him. ‘My flippity haired boy.’

Keith shoved her hard enough to send her stumbling sideways and into a group of coffee-chugging third years. One of them caught her, but not without upending his coffee all over her uniform. Keith pressed a hand to his mouth but a breath of laughter sputtered free nonetheless. ‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t sound sorry at all. Mostly because he wasn’t. ‘Acxa, I’m sorry,’ he entreated against the darkening of her chronically thunderous face. Acxa extracted herself from the arms of the young man and strode towards Keith, swiping coffee of herself with clawed hands. ‘I’m sorry!’ Keith yelled, hopping into a run. ‘Acxa!’

She gave chase, feet pounding off the short-cropped grass like hammers on a war drum. Keith sprinted towards the dormitory, bursting through sprinkler showers and slipping past star-struck students, issuing half-assed apologies in hysterical gasps. When, at the steps of the dorms, Acxa finally caught him, she hoisted him into a hug that made his ribs groan with pressure.

‘You’re my favourite nuisance,’ she said, swinging him sideways so his long legs flew out to the side.

Keith was breathless with laughter, cheeks high with colour and teeth bared in a childish grin he hadn’t quite grown out of, despite everything. ‘Hey!’ he cried. ‘You’re messing up my sash!’

With a grin, Acxa flipped it off his shoulder and tossed it over her own, dropping Keith to his feet in the process. ‘If I had my way, you wouldn’t need this anymore. You’d be wearing Kolivan's.’

‘Well butter my quiznak.’

Still clinging to each other, the pair turned to see a smiling Hunk approaching with Pidge hot on his heels. The former green paladin raced towards them and flung herself against Keith’s middle, hugging him fiercely. She drew back to look at Keith, eyes keen.

‘You _came_!’ she exclaimed finally, amazed.

Keith feigned no-big-deal-ness about as well as he feigned anything else. But he tried nonetheless. ‘Of course.’

Hunk’s hand found his shoulder, fingers pressing against the back of his neck. ‘I’m glad you came, bud.’

Keith issued a nervous, belligerent titter and repeated, ‘Of course.’

Drawing Keith towards the entrance of the dorm, Hunk continued lightly as Pidge caught up with Acxa, ‘Heard somebody got offered position of leader of the Blades! That’s pretty cool.’ Thick eyebrows wiggled.

A camera flashed in Keith’s face. He didn’t even get to see who took it. ‘Sure. I guess.’

‘They throwing a big party? Need some catering?’

‘Not for me they don’t. I’d have to ship out the day after… the eh… after tomorrow if I wanted to make the ceremony. The other… uh… the other ceremony. The blades ceremony. The one with the blades. Not the people. The human people. Shiro. Etc.’ If the ground would kindly just open up and munch Keith into a fine paste, that would be grand.

‘Blades ceremony! I met it's all dark and cool. And you! Man of the hour!’ Hunk cried. ‘Well… second man of the hour. Er… third after Curtis.’

‘Yeah.’ Keith stopped at the elevators so sharply Hunk almost careened into him. Another student rushed up and shoved a camera in Keith’s face. He blinked the flash away. Another shot past and gave him a too-familiar pat on the back. ‘Look eh… I’ve been piloting and –’

Hunk nodded solemnly. ‘I get it.’ He smiled. ‘Get some rest, Keith.’

‘I will.’

Hunk tossed a card at him. ‘Reach me here. You know, if you need someone to talk to.’

‘I will,’ Keith said, trawling for another smile. His eyes were burning. He really needed to lie down.

With a solid slap to Acxa’s back, Hunk grabbed Pidge and held her as they said their goodbyes.

‘Make sure he rests, pointy lady!’ Hunk winked at Acxa.

‘As if I could make him do anything.’

Hunk pressed his lips together and nodded. ‘Not many who can.’ He waved once. ‘Rest well, you two. See you tomorrow.’

Keith was in the elevator the moment the doors opened. He stabbed his finger into the button for the fourth floor.

Acxa frowned at him. ‘What did that button ever do to you?’

Keith said nothing. The elevator drifted upwards in cold and familiar silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go <3
> 
> Get at me on tumblr: /froldgapp
> 
> British English so ' and not ", etc!

_ He barely makes a sound when he sleeps _ , thought Acxa, legs curled around Keith as though they were lovers and not just two lonely people looking for a little warmth. Occasionally, he would pull in a deep breath, muscles tightening until they trembled, before releasing it again with a long sigh. Bringing a hand up carefully so as not to wake him, she parted the hair at the nape of his neck and pressed a kiss there. The very beginnings of morning light were misting the heavy curtains and panelling the walls in shades of blue. Soon it would be time to wake and wash and dress; venture to the Garrison’s garden where the wedding ceremony would take place, and where Keith Kogane’s heart would fissure once again.

She’d taken blaster shots to protect this person wrapped in blankets in front of her. But this, there was no saving him from. She’d tried. Krolia had tried. Kolivan, Ezor, Zethrid. Some more gentle than others, of course:  _ Don’t do this to yourself. _ But Keith was steadfast:  _ What are you talking about? I have to be there. I have to go. _

Acxa marvelled at his childish commitment, his stubborn loyalty. He was the most naive person she’d ever met. Pure and strong for it, but fragile too. Fragile in the way that great things were: poetic in their vulnerability. Terrifying. He terrified her. And his mother. And, for a time, Shiro too. This soft-hard, vicious-tender, brave-scared soul was worth saving and loving and caring for. He was her fight. If she could make him happy, keep him safe from unnecessary hurt, then perhaps she could wrought a little goodness in the universe after all.

Keith stirred, moaning softly. His naked back was damp with sweat, his skin puckered with goosebumps despite the heat that rolled off him. He dreamed often, if quietly. He dreamed now. His distress lay in the minute movements of his fingers and the pinching of his eyebrows. Renewing her hold, Acxa pulled herself flush against him, laying her cheek on the elegant slope of his shoulder. ‘Shhh,’ she whispered, drawing her thumb beneath his eye to catch a building teardrop.

OoO

‘I hate this.’ Keith tottered in from the bathroom in un-belted, un-buttoned trousers and a collar that was in the process of consuming the lower half of his face. She laughed. He whined, ‘ _Acxa_.’

Truly, he had her sympathies. Earth suits were fussy affairs: stiff trousers, starched shirt, thick waistcoat and boxy jacket. Never mind the ridiculous bow… thingie. It seemed to serve no purpose other than to make Keith look like a choked puppy. And this one was white of all colours. It was requested of the paladins in the invite, of course. It seemed entirely too impractical. In contrast, Acxa’s suit in shades of grey and amber was form-fitting but breathable, regal, and well, Galra, for want of a better word. She levelled an appraising gaze at Keith, who fidgeted helplessly with his collar while simultaneously trying to keep his trousers up.

‘Well,’ she began, turning from her place at the mirror where she was carefully retouching the gold spirals on her horns (her only capitulation to flair). ‘Can’t you lose some of it? The shirt?’

He stared at her long and hard before answering, ‘No.’

Her eyes drifted down to the hideous trousers.

‘No!’

‘Then I can’t help you.’ She turned back to the mirror and tried to school her face into something resembling kindness. ‘If it counts for anything, you look like every other earthling I’ve encountered so far.’

‘And that is?’

‘Like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.’ 

OoO

Mindful of the punishing Arizonan weather, Shiro and Curtis had chosen to get married in early spring. Already, the rows of well-landscaped trees were blooming on the Garrison grounds and more conservative members of the school could justify light jackets or sweaters in the hours before noon. The walk to the garden was pleasant, or would have been, were it not for the clumps of garrison students who circled Keith and Acxa as they self-consciously made their way past the main entrance and through the cloisters. They received occasional whistles and even enthusiastic  _ whoops _ . Not everyone was on board with how casually alliance-aligned Galra were welcomed-back to Earth, however. Nor the global near-reverence to Earth’s most famous intergalactic half-breed. Crossing the wide lawn towards the private garden at the rear of the complex, someone cried, ‘Justice for Earth!’ and pelted a bottle at the pair. Acxa caught it one-handed and was about to redirect it towards the individual’s head when Keith plucked it from her raised hand and dropped it in a bin. 

‘He had it coming,’ Acxa grumbled.

‘I’ve never seen someone decapitated with a bottle of Dr Pepper, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.’

Noticing more than a few un-uniformed gentleman who were clearly  _ not _ students or staff, Acxa asked Keith what business they had on the grounds. She didn’t like how they leered at her, less so how they stared at him with wolfish eyes and thin smiles.

‘Press,’ answered Keith. ‘Just keep walking.’

She complied, but her hands itched for her blaster nonetheless. It was always handy for a little scare.

When they arrived at the white and peach bunting that marked the wedding venue, they found Hunk engaged in a heated argument with a very annoyed caterer.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that c rème fraîche ain’t going to cut it with _bii-boh-bis_ and you should have found an alternative. Do you want noxious tube-sock farts in the marquee?’ The caterer’s eyes darted to Keith, presumably for some support, but it only served to alert Hunk to their arrival.

‘Oh quiznak,’ Keith muttered as Hunk collected him by one arm, dragging him into the fray for back-up.

‘Explain to this “cook” here that this is a multi... _ galactic _ wedding and as many – no  _ all – _ guests should have been catered for.’ He folded his arms and glared at the caterer, foot tapping.

‘I…’ Keith started.

Acxa decided to assist. She ignored Keith’s kick to her shin; easy to do, it being well-armoured in her ceremonial attire. ‘Galra can’t eat wheat, chives or nutmeg.’

Hunk clenched his fists in front of him, righteous. ‘Yes!’ he squealed, throwing a hand at one of the passing waiters and their tray of wafers topped with diced chives. ‘Wheat, chives or nutmeg! Ever smell galra puke? Huh?’ His voice dropped an octave as he leaned into the caterer’s face. ‘Smells like death.’

The caterer rolled his shoulders and issued a few curt coughs. ‘The grooms were more than happy with my menu, sir. We’ve had several tastings and they were kind enough to let me know I was the finest chef they’d encountered on this world or any other.’

‘The finest che–!’

‘They informed me there is an alien-friendly canteen in the main Garrison building for any, er,  _ thing _ that may have special requirements.’ He plucked three champagne flutes from another flitting waiter and thrust one into each of their hands. ‘Enjoy your day,' he said, turning heel and marching off towards the marquee.

Acxa scrunched her nose at the bubbly liquid and emptied it onto the grass behind her. She looked at Hunk’s crestfallen face and laid a hand to his back. ‘I enjoy your nutmegless meals very much, Hunk.’

‘Why thank you, Acxa,' Hunk said with a pitchy voice. He gathered himself again, tugging on his lapels to straighten out his equally horrid white suit. Y'ou know, once you get past that scary ex-evil general exterior, there’s a whole lot of caramel going on ins–’ A cheer erupted from further within the garden. Hunk stopped himself short. His eyes slid to his fellow paladin. ‘Keith?’

There it was: the moment that Shiro arrived, sharp in the mid-morning sun, arm-in-arm with the man he would marry. The man who wasn’t Keith.

‘Keith?’ Acxa coaxed, leaning into his field of vision.

Keith sputtered a single, dry sob; more like a laugh really, though his eyes gleamed with hurt.

Hunk flanked Keith on his other side, and the three of them stood and stared as Shiro and Curtis moved through the crowd, pausing occasionally for the photographer who zipped around them, snapping furiously. Garrison officials approached in their official suits with their official spouses offering their official congrats’, while politicians and even the occasional movie-star fawned over the handsome couple. Curtis’s hand puckered Shiro’s suit jacket from where it held fast to his waist, while Shiro smiled, and joked and laughed with abandon, head thrown back and mouth open to the sky.

‘They look so happy,’ Keith said, eyes fixed on the scene.

‘They look like actors,’ Acxa groused.

‘They look like they got the last two tuxedos in the discount store,’ added Hunk. He threw an arm across Keith’s shoulder and pulled him close. With his mouth an inch from Keith’s ear, he asked quietly. ‘Why you gotta do this to yourself, buddy?’  
  
‘I can’t let Shiro down,’ Keith said, and the misery of the phrasing boomed through Acxa’s skull. _Can’t._ And that was it: Keith  _couldn't_ escape Shiro's orbit. If she were a spiritual Galra, she'd say he was cursed. His devotion was pathological.

Perhaps she’d known love in her life before. Lotor had felt something like it, once. But like her maybe-love for Lotor, Keith’s love for Shiro was a tragedy, an affliction, one-sided and chronic: because when Keith said  _ I can’t let Shiro down _ , Acxa had swallowed back the bitter words,  _ Shiro doesn’t care. _

She didn't want to be right, but she was. When Keith raised a shaky hand to wave at the couple, Shiro turned away, broad back as cold and distant as a foreign moon.


End file.
